Witches and Warlocks
by Aeraqua
Summary: What would happen if Harry was a girl? Her character would be different, wouldn't it? Maybe even her house would be different. But, it still wouldn't deny that Voldemort's back...previously Holly Potter, The Girl Who Lived
1. Prologue

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.

They were related to _the Potters_. Mrs. Dursley pretended that she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small daughter too, but they had never seen her. They didn't want Dudley mixing with a girl like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half-past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

Now, Mr. Dursley was not prepared for the day ahead of him. He first saw a cat reading a map—no, looking at the map, and people in cloaks. However, he managed to put his mind on drills again. He sat with his back to the window, which was lucky, because HE didn't see the owls swooping overhead, while other people watched, openmouthed. When he went to buy lunch, however, he heard the fateful words.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard—"

"—yes, their daughter, Holly, poor girl—"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He almost called Petunia, when he realized that there probably were a lot of girls called Holly. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure if his niece was called Holly. She could be called Harriet or something. He had never met the girl.

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o' clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone right outside the door.

"Sorry", he grunted, as the tiny old man wearing a violet cloak stumbled and almost fell. The old man's face split into a wide smile, and said, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!" Then he hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley was rattled. He had just been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a "Muggle", whatever that was. When he got home, the newscaster told him that there were hundreds of owls swooping around, and shooting stars in Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee. Everything was very strange today. He hoped it was just his imagination, which was ironic, because usually, he did not encourage imagination. So he decided to ask Petunia if she had any qualms either. As he had expected, she looked angry.

Then, as casually as he could, he said "Their daughter—she'd be around Dudley's age now, wouldn't she?"

"I suppose so," Mrs. Dursley said stiffly.

"What's her name again? Harriet, isn't it?"

"Holly." She looked like she was going to say more, but she didn't.

Mr. Dursley's heart sank horribly.

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat from the morning was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.  
The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them...  
How very wrong he was.

He drifted into uneasy sleep, the cat outside was not. It was sitting ramrod straight, staring at a then, a man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for." Then he asked suddenly "Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You- Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.

"I know you haven't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumours that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

Professor McGonagall fixed Dumbledore with a piercing look. This was obviously what she had wanted to discuss. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.  
"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead. "

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.  
"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.  
Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's daughter, Holly. But - he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Holly Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone.  
Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's - it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Holly survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Holly to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now."

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Holly Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! She'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Holly Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Holly - every child in our world will know her name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head, regardless of gender. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?"  
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Holly underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing her."

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.  
If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got her, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She didn't fall asleep until we were almost landing, the little tyke."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. She had curly red hair.

"She looks just like Lily!" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"She has James' eyes," Hagrid sniffed.

Then, somberly, Dumbledore pointed out a ring of red around her arm. It was shaped curiously like a clawed hand.

"Dumbledore, will she have that forever?" Professor McGonagall said shakily.  
"I'm afraid so."

"Couldn't you get rid of it?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Marks can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give her here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Holly in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Holly and gave her what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Holly off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Holly gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Holly's blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Holly," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Holly Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand clutched with a surprisingly hard grip on the letter beside her and he slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and stared at by her cousin Dudley like she was an alternate life form... She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Holly Potter - the girl who lived!"


	2. Petunia Gets a Nasty Shock

**Wow! I'm so happy! I got a pleasant surprise today and saw a few people add this story into their alerts, favorites, etc! Even 3 Reviews! So I thought, wow, I have to update soon. And as I promised, the winner of my little contest was…..Allen Pitt! Actually, you were extremely close to my version of the story. Well Done! Thank you to my other reviewers too. And Allen's later sentences were really close to the truth too. (Btw, I am saving the explanation on Holly's Arm toward the end…muhahaha. Happy Reading!) **

**Oh yeah…I forgot. DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter in any shape, way, or form. Or something like that.**

Petunia Dursley was about to faint when she opened the door. A bundle lay on the doorstep, and Petunia might have thought it was a package delivered by the mail, when a tiny hand emerged around the cloth and gripped it tightly.

"Lord…" she breathed. Then—"Vernon!!!"

Holly woke up cranky. A strange woman towered over her, and she began to cry. Where were the gentle arms of her mom? Or the continually grinning face of her father, making her laugh with Peek-a-boo?

Petunia stared down at the baby with disbelief. No, it couldn't be. It wasn't possible. Lily's daughter, here on her front doorstep? She felt the world spin, until she saw the folds of a letter next to the baby. With trembling hands, she picked it up. Maybe it would offer some kind of explanation. It was crumpled from Holly's strong grip, and Petunia suddenly thought that Dudley would've eaten it a long time ago, and was relieved it was still in one piece. _No, Petunia._ She thought. _Dudley is the most wonderful child in the world. Definitely better than something produced…by a freak! _Even as she thought that, she opened the letter, looked at it, and fainted dead away.

Vernon Dursley waddled out the doorway as fast his legs would allow. "PETUNIA!" He shook her frantically, nearly stepping on Holly in the process. "What's wrong?"

Just then, Petunia came around. "Lily. Lily's dead." And she did the one thing she swore she wouldn't do. She began to cry. Later, she would make Mr. Dursley swear that he would never tell anyone. But now, she cried. She cried for all the times when she bullied her sister. It had been jealousy, hadn't it? But her vengeful mind had pushed that aside and now she would never forget the hurt look on Lily's face. Remorse welled up in her. Mr. Dursley looked quite at a loss on what to do. "A-are you alright, Petunia?" He stammered. He offered her a tissue. Petunia Dursley accepted it gratefully, and gave him a watery smile. Now she remembered why she had married him. She had always dreamed about knights in shining armor to swoop her off her feet when she was young. But, one day, when she was sitting quite alone by herself, he had come along, smiled at her, and taken her heart.

Then, suddenly, she stopped smiling. Alarmed, Mr. Dursley tried to figure out what was wrong. "The neighbors!" She hissed. "Get her out of the way." She said, pointing at Holly.

Mr. Dursley seemed to realize Holly was there just then. "What the ruddy—"

Mrs. Dursley gave him a withering stare. He gulped, quickly picked up the crying bundle, and bustled into the house. Dudley gave a loud wail from inside.

Petunia Dursley quickly tried to compose her features. "Coming, Diddykins!" She called, wiping the last of her tears away.

**Short, eh? I still liked this chapter though…(at least I uploaded!) I tried to explain the Dursleys' past… So anyways, this chap was more of filler, but in the next chapter, Holly will have her first real appearance! Please review, I will upload sooner that way ********. Oh…btw, tell me who your favorite Harry Potter character was in your review! I'll be interested to know.**

**P.S Oh yeah, the truth about the claw marks on Holly's arm? This is what kind of happened. Lily was smarter in this case and tackled Voldy from killing Holly. She did love Holly a lot. Voldy, nevertheless, performed the AK curse and killed her. But then, as he reached out to grab Holly, a blinding pain filled him. He found himself blistering away…he could not touch Holly because of Lily's love, and therefore could not perform the AK curse on her. Holly was really angry at this guy, and for good measure, socked him in the face as he grabbed her arm. **


	3. Holly is Growing Up

**Woot you guys rock!!! So this morning I checked my email, and there were a couple more alerts and favs! So keep reading, hopefully this will satisfy your thirsts!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not and will not ever own Holly—er—Harry Potter.**

Petunia Evans Dursley was brooding, which she hardly ever did. Usually, she was sweet-talking Dudley, talking to Vernon or Holly, or spying on the neighbors. But now, she was thinking hard. Nearly 10 years had passed since that day. The day she broke down on her front doorstep. She sat up straight. It was 6 AM in the morning, and Vernon was snoring next to her like a foghorn. It wasn't really helping to collect her thoughts. Quietly, she slipped out to the bathroom, and remembered, with a pang, how Lily had always sneaked up behind her, and scare her half to death. In her sweet innocent way, of course. That was another reason why Petunia had detested Lily. Petunia had never been sweet. Or innocent, for that matter. Petunia was always the protector and leader of Lily.

But she wasn't here to think about Lily. No, she was thinking about Holly. Then she remembered, when she was little, when Lily had told her she didn't like her name. "Lilies die after a day or two," she had said. "I wish I had a name that would last longer. I wish I had the name Holly." But Petunia thought Lily had the most wonderful name in the world. Much better than Petunia. Petunia sounded prissy and ugly. Oh yes, that was another reason she was jealous of Lily. She had always been prettier, had a better name. And she always seemed like she was so selfless. Petunia supposed that was the reason her parents loved Lily so much more than her. It wasn't fair. But then again, it wasn't fair that Lily had been killed by some crazy powerful guy. Petunia buried her head in her hands. No. NO! Think about Holly. Where's your sense of self-respect? She told herself.

When Holly had arrived, Petunia had found it was extremely easy to take care of her. The girl had been the most interested in bubbles. If you handed her a bubble blower she could probably be occupied with the better of an hour. Little did Petunia know that it was the last act ever performed by Holly's father before he died. Not that Petunia would ever say she was glad because Dudley took up her whole attention span. However, it was a different story when Dudley tried to whack or pinch Holly. The girl somehow made Dudley whimper every time. Petunia never saw how, and Vernon got really mad.

Then, when Holly was three, Petunia decided the move her out of the bedroom. When Vernon tried to get her into the closet beneath the stairs though, Holly had screamed louder than Dudley. Vernon complained of deafness 3 days afterwards. Needless to say, she got a small room of her own. Then Dudley had wanted a large bedroom to himself. Petunia had gladly given it to him, but then when Dudley threw a tantrum because he wanted a second bedroom, the stare Holly gave Dudley might've vaporized him. Holly was sent to her bedroom for a day. And Dudley never did get his second bedroom.

As Holly grew up, she grew more and more like Lily. Long red curls fell past her shoulder. Petunia had always envied that red hair. But when she told Lily that, Lily had smiled and told Petunia she wanted the blond straight hair Petunia had. Now, the only part of Holly's hair that wasn't identical to Lily was the bangs that hung over her eyes. Probably from her father. She also had hazel eyes—but in the exact shape of Lily's eyes. And Petunia found it harder and harder as Holly grew up to be strict to Holly. She found herself…liking Holly. The girl liked to climb up trees and read all day. And she was quite nice. Even Vernon sometimes grunted thanks to Holly when she made his eggs just the way he liked.

There was one thing, though. Dudley treated Holly like the TV. And that was really something. It meant that he was nicer to her than his parents. Though it was probably because he was terrified of her, though. He skirted around her at all times. Every time he spoke to her, he spoke respectfully, eyes cast downward. Petunia suspected why. One day, when both of them were six, the two of them had been hissing at each other for a "showdown" of some sort. She had dismissed it as some silly Teen Titans or whatever TV show saying, but the day afterward, Dudley complained of an extremely sore stomach, and she noticed a bruise on his cheek. Holly, however, had given her a radiant smile and Petunia noticed that she had no marks at all.

Now, Petunia sat in the bathroom, watching the sun rise. Vernon, on that first day when Holly came, suggested getting the magic out of her. Petunia did hate magic. She still hated Lily for being able to use it. But that idea was too barbaric. And she had never had the heart to try to force the magic out of Holly. So she knew there'd be a letter soon. Her heart sank. Owls tainting her kitchen floor. Having to explain everything to Holly.

Petunia's chin thrust up. She would NOT give in. She didn't care about Holly that much, right? If that school came, THEY would explain it to her. Holly would just have to deal for it. And so Petunia Evans Dursley got up, dusted herself off, put on her make-up, and went downstairs to make breakfast.

**Ooh. A longer chapter! Sorry to keep you guys waiting for a day or two. Lol. Anyways, tell me your favorite Harry Potter character!**

**Btw, sorry for Holly not making an appearance. But this summary hopefully cleared some issues up! Next up: Holly at the Zoo. Stay tuned, and please, please still review!!!**


	4. The Vanishing Glass

**I know, I know. Why haven't I updated sooner? I have been pretty busy these past few days, so I haven't updated in like what, 3 days? But anyways, I'm so happy with you guys! 4 Reviews on the new chapter! Woot Woot. Here's a loooong chapter now =). Btw, I will be replying to EACH reviewer personally. So look forward to it!**

***EDIT*. Yes, I'll be revising some chapters a little bit, because of the mistakes reviewers tell me I have. I'm wondering if anyone could beta this for me?**

Privet Drive had hardly changed at all in nearly 10 years. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls.

Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bonnets -- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. Occasionally, with him would be a pale red-head girl with hazel eyes. In these pictures, however, Dudley Dursley looked apprehensive, even scared.

And Holly Potter was there, asleep in the bedroom up the stairs. Her Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Holly woke with a start. She heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. She rolled onto her back and tried to remember the dream she had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it, and what else? Holly frowned, trying to remember. She had a funny feeling she'd had the same dream before.

Her aunt was back outside the door.  
"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Holly.

"Well, hurry, Holly, I want you to look after the bacon today. It's Dudder's birthday today."  
Holly groaned.

"Hurry!" Her aunt said.  
Dudley's birthday -- how could she have forgotten? Holly got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair on her bed and put them on.

When she was dressed she went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Holly, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise -- unless of course it involved punching somebody. But then again, Holly had scolded and beaten it out of him by the time she was 10. Holly didn't look it, but she was very fast.

Holly studied herself in the mirror. Her long red hair was wavy, and her bangs were brushed to one side. Her fawn shaped hazel eyes gazed curiously back at her. The only thing she didn't like about her appearance was the curious mark on her arm.

"Where had I gotten it?" She had asked.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Holly was turning over the bacon.  
"Make my eggs!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

Holly was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel -- Holly often said that Dudley looked like a pig because he ate so much.  
Holly put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.  
"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."  
"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."  
"All right, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Holly, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, sighed impatiently. "Dudley Dursley. How. Many. Times. Does. This. Happen. A. Year. Some kids in Africa don't even have a single one, you prat."

Dudley looked startled. It had been a while since Holly had scolded him. He bowed his head meekly.  
Aunt Petunia frowned at Holly. "Anyways, we'll buy you two more presents, Diddykins."

Uncle Vernon just stared at Holly uncomprehendingly, as if trying to figure out how she had tamed Dudley.

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty ... thirty..."  
"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.  
"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."  
Uncle Vernon chuckled appreciatively.

At that moment the kettle started whistling and Aunt Petunia went to turn the fire off while Holly and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back.

"Does she have to come too?" Dudley whined, pointing at Holly. Holly's mouth dropped open. "What? Why shouldn't I come?"

"Because it's my special birthday!" He grumped. "Other kids get to play laser tag."

"Oh Didders!" Aunt Petunia sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you next year."

Just then, the doorbell rang -- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically -- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. Piers nodded at Holly respectively.

Half an hour later, Holly was sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley. Something had been strange this morning, though. Aunt Petunia had taken her aside. "Don't you do anything today," she had said.

"I don't do anything," Holly had protested. But Aunt Petunia hadn't believed her. No one ever did.  
The problem was, strange things often happened with Holly and she really couldn't understand why.

Once, Holly had been swinging with Dudley in the park, closely supervised by Aunt Petunia. Holly had felt herself slip off the swing, and somehow, by instinct, raise her arms and glide gracefully, like a trapeze artist, to the ground. She had landed so lightly, she hadn't felt the impact. And the swing had been impossibly high too. Aunt Petunia had shrieked and Dudley had stared at her as if she was a mutant.

Another time, in school, she had to make a Mother's Day gift for Aunt Petunia. They had to stick flowers onto a sign that said, "Thank you!" Holly had held hers in her hand and the flowers began to open and close. When she had given the present, she found Aunt Petunia in a dead faint on the ground, the sign next to her with the flowers still opening and closing.

On the other hand, she'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. She was running away from someone who looked to be insane, because that person was muttering about "The Dark Lord", or whatever, and she had been running into the bushes when suddenly she found herself on the rooftop. She supposed the wind had caught her in mid- jump.

The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Holly's Headmistress telling them Holly had been climbing school buildings. They had grounded her, and as much as she tried to explain it wasn't HER fault, they didn't listen.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong, she was sure.  
While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, the council, and the bank, were just a few of his favourite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.  
I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Holly, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."  
Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and said in a voice was force calm, "Motorcycles. Don't. Fly." Dudley and Piers sniggered, until Holly gave them a death glare.

I know they don't," said Holly. "It was only a dream."  
But she wished she hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than her asking questions, it was her talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon -- they seemed to think she might get dangerous  
ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley, Piers, and Holly large chocolate ice creams at the entrance. It was really good, Holly thought as she watched a gorilla that looked remarkably like Dudley except it wasn't blonde. Holly had a wonderful morning.

They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and then Piers and Holly requested another one too.  
Holly felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Holly moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself - no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Holly's.

It winked.

Holly stared. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. She looked back at the snake and winked, too.  
The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Holly a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time.

"I know," Holly murmured through the glass, though she wasn't sure the snake could hear her. "It must be really annoying."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Holly asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Holly peered at it.  
Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Holly read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Holly made both of them jump.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could, but suddenly, a tall, muscular kid, who went by the name as Kid Kingsley from their school shoved Holly aside.

"Out of the way, you," he said. Caught by surprise, Holly fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Kid Kingsley was leaning right up close to the glass, the next, he had fallen into the Boa Constrictor's domain.

Holly sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past her, Holly could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come.... Thanksss, amigo."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"  
The zoo director himself made Mrs. Kingsley a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley stared at Holly in horror.

Petunia Evans Dursley was in shock. She quickly bustled the three of them out of there, and they all went home. No one wanted to talk to Holly after that. And Holly, alone in her bedroom, suddenly had a strange thought. "Am I special?" Little did she know.

**Hey! Long enough for you guys ;)? Anyways, anyone notices the last name of the kid who bullied Holly? K-I-N-G-S-L-E-Y. There's a reason. Look forward to the next chapter, and review! 5 reviews please.**


	5. Letters from No One

**Woo! You guys are making me delirious with joy. 6 reviews so soon! As I promised, I will respond to each reviewer. And I am sooo sorry for making you guys wait. And also, one last thing! You guys will get a surprise at the end for reviewing!**

**Allen Pitt: Wow, thanks for commenting again. Your advice is very helpful. Yeah, actually I'm not sure whether I should put Holly in Slytherin or Gryffindor. **

**Hyperactive Lioness: Yes, Holly was almost exactly like Lily, except a little more "unladylike". Did you notice the last display was Harry's magic?**

**Hermione Solo: Whoopsies, I still haven't gotten used to saying Holly…lol. Thanks for you review, I'm looking forward to Hogwarts too. **

**angelvan 105: Thanks so much for your praise! I'll upload as fast as I can. Look forward to this chapter!**

**frannienzbabe: You'll have to see about that, and yeah, I didn't like Ron too much either. The only thing I liked was that he provided some comedic relief.**

***EDIT* Sorry James, I forgot to respond because I was already typing the fanfic by the time you reviewed! Anyways, your suspicions are actually kind of close. **

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Holly her longest-ever punishment. By the time she was allowed out of her bedroom again, the summer holidays had nearly started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Holly was glad school was almost over, but there was no escaping the smelly, uncivilized gang that Dudley had for friends. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and lumbering, and Dudley was the biggest of the lot. They spend most of their time hunting down little kids, and Holly groaned, having to break up more fights.

Holly spent most of her time lounging outside reading and tailing Dudley. His friends were really a bad influence on him, she thought, sighing. She had thought she had manipulated his tendency for violence out of him, but she had to sprint to the rescue nearly every day to some poor kid in the neighborhood. Obviously Dudley's friends were disgusted with Dudley obeying her, but Holly knew if she threatened to tell them on their parents, she could keep them in check. And anyways, she thought, smiling slightly, they would ruin their reputation by picking on a girl.

One day, though, Holly thought, enough was enough. Dudley had been "accepted" into Smeltings, a private school which Uncle Vernon once went to, and Holly had to go to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought it was funny to say "They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall. Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Holly rather chillingly. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick." Then she walked away, before Dudley could work out what she'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Holly at home. Finally, she didn't have to share the computer with Dudley anymore. She sighed in relief. All he wanted to do was to blow up aliens on the computer.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Holly didn't trust herself to speak. Later, she went upstairs to howl with laughter under the covers.

The next morning, Aunt Petunia came back with the worst shirt and skirt in the universe. And she was dyeing it gray. It smelled horrible.

"Why is it gray?" Asked Holly.

Aunt Petunia's lips pursed, like whenever Holly dared to ask a question.

"It's supposed to." She said, pointing at the school rules packet.

Holly looked at it. It said, "Wear a blouse and skirt everyday to school for girls. Must be clean. Should be shiny gray because of school colors."

Holly doubted it would ever be shiny.

Then Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Holly's new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Holly get it."

"Get the mail, Holly."

"Make Dudley get it."

Dudley went, looking resigned.

Dudley came back, after a long while, looking flabbergasted. "There's a letter for you, Holly. It's…strange." Holly's ears perked up.

She took it, looking at it with wonder. It said:

Ms. H. Potter  
The Second Bedroom  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Holly saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.  
Uncle Vernon hadn't heard a thing. He was too busy looking at the postcard Aunt Marge had send him. "She's ill," he informed them, sighing deeply.

Holly was on the point of unfolding her letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of her hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's mine!" said Holly, trying to snatch it back.

But Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear. His face was green."P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment she looked relieved. Then, she fearfully looked up at Uncle Vernon.

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Uncle Vernon croaked, "I thought you said you would get rid of it…"

Aunt Petunia didn't say anything.

Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly. "I want to read it," said Holly furiously, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.  
Holly didn't move.

I WANT MY LETTER!" she shouted.

"Let me see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Holly and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Holly immediately took the keyhole. Dudley had to take the crack on the floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address -- how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching -- spying -- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want --"

Holly could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.  
"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything....

"But --"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took her in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly the next day.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one!" Ms. H. Potter, The Second Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive --'"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Holly right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Holly had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Holly's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your bedroom," he wheezed at Holly. "Dudley -- go -- just go."

Holly walked round and round her room. Then, she set the alarm, and heart thumping, waited for the next morning. The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Holly turned it off quickly and dressed silently. She mustn't wake the Dursleys. She stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

She was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Her heart hammered as she crept across the dark hall toward the front door --  
Holly leapt into the air; she'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to her horror Holly realised that the big, squashy something had been her uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Holly didn't do exactly what she'd been trying to do. He shouted at Holly for about half an hour and then told her to go and make a cup of tea. Holly shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time she got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Holly could see three letters addressed in green ink.

I want --" she began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before her eyes. Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Holly. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Holly found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Holly in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today --"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Holly leapt into the air trying to catch one.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Holly around the waist and threw her into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.  
"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his moustache at the same time. I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his moustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake'em off... shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Holly shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Holly stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering....  
They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.  
"'Scuse me, but is one of you Ms. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."  
She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Ms. H. Potter  
Room 17  
Railview Hotel  
Cokeworth

Holly made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.  
"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a ploughed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley snivelled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

Holly stared dully out the window. She didn't even bother to correct Dudley that it was SHE who should feel badly right now.

Monday. This reminded Holly of something. If it was Monday -- and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Holly's eleventh birthday. Of course, her birthdays were nowhere as spectacular as Dudley's—she had never been pampered. But it wasn't that you turned 11 years old every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-grey water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.  
Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shrivelled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Holly privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Holly got the best blanket, because she had to sleep on the floor.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Holly couldn't sleep. She shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, her stomach rumbling with hunger.

Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Holly she'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. She lay and watched her birthday tick nearer, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Holly heard something creak outside. She hoped the roof wouldn't fall in—if it did, she would sue Uncle Vernon. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that she'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?  
One minute to go and she'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten... nine -- maybe she'd wake Dudley up, to make him sing happy birthday -- three... two... one—she rolled over—

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Holly sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

**How was that? Quite like the original chapter, but you can see the differences here and there…and the reason why the Dursleys still reacted that badly? **

**Petunia had promised to Vernon that she was going to wipe the magic out of Holly. But she didn't do it, and now, Vernon is freaking out. He still does care for his immediate family, after all.**

**OMG! I forgot to give you your surprise! Well, here it is….**

***Drumroll, please*. **

**A FREE Chocolate Frogs pack for ANY reviewer, as well as responding to them!**

**Limited offer only, for this chapter!!!! So Please Review….at least 5 reviews again??**


	6. BOOM! Hagrid Enters

**I dropped dead with shock about 3 days ago…5 reviews overnight, I was soo happy! And then more people reviewed over the days…Thank you, thank you! And for those who reviewed last time, the chocolate frog card is……**

**GWENDOLIN THE WEIRD!**

**I know, funny right? That it isn't Dumbledore. LOL.**

**So my dear reviewers, now I will respond.**

**7 REVIEWS! (A record!)**

**-Alex—Cool, I'm glad you like it! Hmm…I'm still thinking of what Holly will do when she meets Malfoy, obviously she'll have more Slytherin in her this time. But I'll try to make the encounter memorable!**

**Allen Pitt—Thanks for reviewing again, Allen, and giving such satisfactory reviews! And I have to say, you are psychic, psychic! For guessing so much of the plot…lol.**

**Hermione Solo—I wonder what a meek Dudley can do, hmm? If I were to do later books, the plot would be really twisted, lol. And yes, our beloved half-giant is here…we hope.**

**grangergal101—Thanks for reviewing! *Cringes* I'm soo sorry I didn't update sooner! Hmm…you'll see and find out!**

**angelvan105—Thanks so much, and I think my story is rubbish compared to some out there, lol. Keep reading, hopefully I can make things more interesting!**

**Hyperactive Lioness—Me too, I also look forward to Diagon Alley! That's when the fun will start! **

**Katie Ladmoore—Thanks for reviewing, Katie! I'm glad you like the story so far, and I'm happy that you suggested what house Holly should in. I'm putting a poll up to see whether everyone thinks she should go to Gryffindor or Slytherin. And you'll have to wait and see if Ron is a girl and Hermione and Ginny are boys!**

**Whew…thank you, reviewers. I shall now commence with the story.**

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. "Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.  
There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands -- now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then --

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Holly!" said the giant.

Holly looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet mom, but yeh've got yer dad's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway -- Holly," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."  
From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Holly opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Holly written on it in green icing. Holly licked her lips—she had had cake before with the Dursleys, but they had always insisted on getting her vanilla—because that's what Dudley liked, and not chocolate.

Holly looked up at the giant. She meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to her mouth, and what she said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."  
He held out an enormous hand and patted Holly's unruly red curls.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."  
His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Holly felt the warmth wash over her as though she'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley, Holly."

Dudley stepped back, but Holly stood where she was.

Hagrid passed the sausages to Holly, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, she said, "I'm really sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er -- no," said Holly. "What's Hogwarts?"

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Holly said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Holly.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this girl -- this girl! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"

Holly thought this was going a bit far. Hagrid was being unnecessarily rude to the Dursleys, and besides, she was pretty good in school. She tugged his arm. "Hagrid, stop yelling, please." She pleaded.

"I know some things, I can, you know, do math and stuff." But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?" Holly asked curiously.

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.  
Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like

"Mimblewimble."

Hagrid stared wildly at Holly, who gulped. She hoped he wouldn't attack her next.

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My -- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Holly with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Holly eagerly. She knew this situation wasn't good for the Dursleys, but frankly, right now, her whole body was pumping with adrenaline, as if she knew that something important was going to happen—

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp—she squeezed her eyes shut, knowing, knowing…

"Ah, go boil yer head, Dursley," said Hagrid. "Holly, yer a witch."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

Holly frowned. "That isn't very nice, Hagrid."

Petunia Evans Dursley, at that moment, was struck by how similar the situation was to her own when Severus Snape had told Lily that she was a witch.

"A witch, which means you can do magic," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? I mean good magic. An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Holly stretched out her hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Ms. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. She pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall,  
Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Holly's head like fireworks and she couldn't decide which to ask first.

After a few minutes she stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Holly could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
Given Holly her letter. Taking her to buy her things tomorrow. Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.  
Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Holly noticed she was gaping at Hagrid and closed her mouth quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.  
"She's not going," he said. "I don't want someone dangerous in the house."

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop her," he said.

"A what?" said Holly, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like thern. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in one of the biggest Muggle families I've ever laid my eyes on."

"We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of her! Witch indeed!"

"You knew?" said Holly, trembling violently. "You knew I'm a -- a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! My—my silly sister being what she was, leaving me to go to—to go to—that FREAK school! She came home so happy, oh so happy, her pockets filled with frogspawn, and me—me, what happened to me? My parents just said "Lily this, Lily that", they never cared about me! Off with that Snape boy, she went!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as—just as -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Holly had gone very white. As soon as she found her voice she said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

Aunt Petunia suddenly looked very regretful.

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Holly Potter not knowin' her own story when every kid in our world knows her name!" "But why? What happened?" Holly asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Holly, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone's gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it...."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows --"  
"Who? "

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Holly, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Holly suggested.

"Nah -can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again.

Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Holly. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an' --"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that claw mark on yer arm? That was no ordinary mark, yeh probably already knew. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Holly. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts -- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Holly's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, she saw a flash of green light, and an agonized high screech. Hagrid was watching her sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Holly jumped; she had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, girl," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing too serious -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -- just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -- one more word... "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Holly, meanwhile, while feeling confused and upset and elated, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Volde--, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Holly. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Holly. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Holly with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Holly, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a mistake, and was she really the savior of the witch and wizard world?

"Hagrid," she said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a witch. I don't think I'm good enough."

To her surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a witch, eh? Never made things happen when you were happy or angry?"

Holly looked into the fire. Now she came to think about it... the flower opening, the impossibly high jumping without falling, and setting the boa constrictor on the big bully in school, Kid Kingsley…

Holly looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at her.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Holly Potter, not a witch -- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you she's not going?" he hissed. "She's going to Stonewall High and she'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and she needs all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and --"

"If she wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop her," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's daughter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Her name's been down ever since she was born. She's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and she won't know herself. She'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' she'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HER MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon. He looked quite purple.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER," he thundered, "- INSULT- ALBUS- DUMBLEDORE- IN- FRONT- OF- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley -- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Holly saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them. Holly stood there, frozen.

"Hagrid, you shouldn't have done that!" She said, regaining her voice. "Dudley's not bad."

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. I'm sorry, Holly."  
He cast a sideways look at Holly under his bushy eyebrows.

"It's okay, Hagrid. I'll make it up to them." Holly had only known this man for 10 minutes, but she felt that she could trust him.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Holly.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Holly.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

Holly lay down, her mind twisting and turning with all these new developments.

**YAY! You have no idea how long this took me…lol. Long chappie for the wait, so please still REVIEW! Oh, and I have another surprise!**

**Because of my dear reviewers who surpassed my requirement, I will give an EXTRA LARGE BAR OF HONEYDUKE'S CHOCOLATE to ALL REVIEWERS…flavor is your choice, and creaminess and sweetness is guaranteed! I repeat, EXTRA LARGE BAR OF HONEYDUKE'S CHOCOLATE. Limited Offer Only. So viewers, set up an account on Fanfiction now! 6 reviews please, and if you surpass it, you'll make me soo happy. Thanks!**


	7. Diagon Alley

**Alright! Thanks everyone for reviewing, though *ahem ahem* a lot of people resisted the temptation of Honeyduke's chocolate….lol I know I wouldn't! 1008 people have clicked on this story so far, yet there are only 32 reviews! (Thank you to the reviewers who have reviewed since the beginning.) So this time I got my first real criticism, and I'm glad people mentioned it—**

**Animekidd675 said that it was too much like the real Harry Potter book—so did KenziCullen, and the reason is that I really wanted to make it like an actual Harry Potter—ahem Holly Potter—story. Girls aren't that different than boys, after all, so I'm glad everyone has reviewed so far, and please bear with me as we move on to bigger and better things.**

**Now I will respond to the reviews!**

**-Alex—I put up a poll on which house you want Holly to be in. Please vote in it! (I'll repeat again at the end). Hmm I haven't decided on the pairings yet, they're still 11, though it may show at the middle…who knows?**

**Frannienzbabe—Actually, I think Holly will…though her preferences will be different than Harry's. **

**Angelvan105—Thanks, I'm overwhelmed! Yes, I believe Diagon Alley will be pretty interesting…here Holly will actually get to make her own choices.**

**Gypsydancer529—Thanks for reviewing, and hopefully this chapter will be even better!**

**Allen Pitt—I declare, you are writing this story for me…lol. And yes, I think I'm going to do a chapter and a POV exclusively on Snape…*grins*.**

**Hermione Solo—LOL, I know, Snape will be soo fun to write, I can't wait. But look forward to…Diagon Alley!**

**So thanks everyone, I technically got 7 reviews, +1 by animekidd on the 4th chapter.**

**So…I present….HOLLY'S FIRST TRIP TO THE WIZARDING WORLD!!!**

***EDIT* *Blushes* I had to still revise it because of reviewers pointing out mistakes...will anyone beta this?**

Holly awoke early next morning—the sun shone on her face. She kept her eyes firmly shut.

"It was a dream, she told herself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for witches—not bad witches. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my bedroom."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Holly thought, her heart sinking. But she wanted to go back into the dream, so she still didn't open her eyes.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Holly mumbled, "I'm getting up."  
She sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off her. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Holly scrambled to her feet, so happy she felt as though a large balloon of relief was swelling inside her. She went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat. Holly marveled at it for a second—she hadn't seen a single owl even at nighttime before—

"Don't do that." She said, advancing on the owl.

Holly tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at her and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Holly loudly. "There's an owl—

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally, Holly pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins. _Magic coins_, she thought.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Holly counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Holly could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.  
Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, Holly, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."  
Holly was turning over the magic coins and looking at them. Suddenly, a horrible sinking feeling arose in her.

"Hagrid," she said miserably, "I don't have any magic money. I don't even have any normal money."

To her surprise, Hagrid chuckled. "For one, it's wizard money. An' don't worry about that," he said, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"  
"But if their house was destroyed --"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."  
"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Holly nearly dropped the bit of sausage she was holding.

"Goblins? Er…what kind of goblins?"

"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. What'dya mean, what kind? Only one—small, short, and truthfully, not very friendly. Never mess with goblins, Holly. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts -- knows he can trust me, see.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Holly followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Holly asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew? Cool!"

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."  
They settled down in the boat, Holly still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.  
"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Holly another of his sideways—rather shifty-- looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Holly, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Hagrid, how can a pink umbrella do magic?"

Hagrid didn't say anything, but she could've sworn that under his entire hairy beard, he was flushing.

So she switched tactics. "Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" She asked.

"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he  
spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."  
As Hagrid read the newspaper, she impatiently fidgeted, bursting with questions.  
"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?"

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Holly, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passers-by stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Holly couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Holly? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Holly, jogging alongside Hagrid, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"Really? Are they nice?"

"They're wonderful creatures, bless 'em. Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go."  
They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand Muggle money gave the bills to Holly so she could buy their tickets.  
People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Holly?" he asked as he counted stitches. Holly took the parchment envelope out of her pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Holly unfolded a second piece of paper she hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT  
wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set glass or crystal phials  
telescope set  
brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Holly wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Holly had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Holly had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? Even the Dursleys wouldn't treat her to such an elaborate joke on her birthday. "This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, even Holly's sharp eyes wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Holly had the most peculiar feeling that only she and Hagrid could see it. Before she could mention this, Hagrid had steered her inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"  
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, putting a hand on Holly's shoulder and causing her knees to buckle. Suddenly she felt her arm was very conspicuous.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Holly, "is this -- can this be --?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Holly Potter... what an honor."  
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Holly and seized her hand (the one without the clawed mark), tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back."

Holly didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realising it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. "H-Hi." She said.  
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Holly found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Holly, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"She remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!" Holly privately knew that she had only remembered him because he had looked so funny. She shook hands again and again -- Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.  
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Holly, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"Ms. P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Holly's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Holly to himself. It took almost fifteen minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Holly."

Doris Crockford shook Holly's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Holly.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Holly's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across," he muttered. "Right, stand back, Holly."  
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Holly's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Holly looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.  
"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."  
Holly goggled at everything: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. She wished she had a lot more eyes. She was in the magic—er wizarding—world now! A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying,

"Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad...."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Besides it, there was a pet shop. Several boys of about Holly's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Holly heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Holly had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes (Yuck!), tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon....

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Holly. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Holly noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Holly made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Ms. Holly Potter's safe."

"You have her key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Holly watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals. Her hands itched to touch them. So many riches!

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."  
The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Holly followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Holly asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Holly, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty -- and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Holly tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Holly's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"Hagrid, can you tell me," Holly called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got a 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.  
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Holly gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Holly's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it a long time ago before she could even say "Money". Wow! She was rich.

Hagrid helped Holly pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Holly leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled her back.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Holly asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Holly was sure, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see something very unique, something very special -- but at first she thought it was empty. Then she noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Holly longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Holly didn't know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money. She didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that she was holding more money than she'd had in her whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Holly, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Holly entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Holly started to speak. "Got the lot here—a young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Holly on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Holly.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Racing brooms?"

"You know, Quidditch. Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No, what's Quidditch?" said Holly.

"You don't know what Quidditch is? Are you a Mudblood?" The boy sneered.

"Dunno what you mean by Mudblood," Holly said coldly "I don't think it sounds very nice though. And what is Quidditch?"

"Ha! Mudblood means you're Muggleborn."

"My mum and dad were both wizards and witches."

"Oh, good. Well Mudbloods are stupid and useless. They're not as good as us purebloods, though I suppose that half bloods are ok."

"What's wrong with being Muggleborn?"

"Excuse me?"

Holly repeated it slowly and clearly.

The boy narrowed his eyes. This girl was not a Mudblood, and pretty, but she dared to defy him?

"Their blood is dirty. It's MUGGLE blood!"

"I don't think it's fair to judge people on whether they're a wizard or not, Mr…"

"Malfoy," the boy said with a sneer.

"You can't choose whether you're Muggleborn or not, Mr. Malfoy. So I would advise you to stop that prejudice that you obviously have."

"Do you." The boy said, not smirking anymore. This girl wasn't a Weasley, that was for sure, and she still was a Muggle Lover? He had to tell Father.

He changed the subject. "What house do you think you'll go into?"

"House?"

"Don't tell me you don't know, I know I'LL be in Slytherin. I think I would leave if I was in Hufflepuff."

Holly didn't get to reply, because just then Madame Malkin finished fitting her robes, and she slipped off her chair.

"Well, bye, Mr. Malfoy," she told the boy.

"You never told me your name," he said sneeringly.

She didn't respond, but went outside where Hagrid was, waving and smiling.

Holly was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Holly lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Holly cheered up a bit when she found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, she said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Holly, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Holly. She told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.  
"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in."

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were -- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Volde-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Holly's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Holly away from "Jinxes, Hexes, and Cool Tricks—Turn your Enemies into Toads!"

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea to learn jinxes, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Holly eyed the book "How to Make Yourself Shine, and get Wizards to Notice You!" and blushed, looking determinedly away. Hagrid didn't notice.

Hagrid wouldn't let Holly buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Holly, Holly herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and unicorn hair, 7 galleons an ounce. Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Holly's list again.

"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

"That's very nice of you, Hagrid. You don't have to --"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. "What do you want? Yeh can get a toad, cat, or owl."

Holly sat down and thought. "I want a cat, Hagrid."

"Alrigh'," Hagrid said, grumbling, "but they make me sneeze."

Twenty minutes later, they left Crookshank's Cat Corner, which had been dark and full of light footsteps and glowing eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful tawny kitten, fast asleep, and looking very small. "T-thank you so much, Hagrid."

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand... this was what Holly had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Holly felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Holly tried not to scream. Hagrid must have jumped because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.  
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Holly awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Holly Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your father's eyes, though the shape is your mother's. It seems only yesterday they were in here. Your mother's wand was ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Holly. Holly wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the witch or wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Holly were almost nose to nose. Holly could see herself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander gripped Holly's arm, and touched the claw mark.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly.

"Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...."

He shook his head and then, to Holly's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, 'course not," said Hagrid quickly. Holly noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now -- Ms. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right handed," said Holly.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Holly from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Holly suddenly realised that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Ms. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Holly took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"

Holly tried -- but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."  
Holly tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Holly took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Suddenly, a red and gold lion emerged, roaring, before it faded. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Strong magic, you have. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Holly's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious…

"Besides that it's made of holly, what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Holly with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Ms. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that mark on your arm."

Holly swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the witch, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Ms. Potter.... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."  
Holly shivered, but her heart was pounding. She was thrilled. She wasn't sure she liked Mr. Ollivander too much, though. She paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Holly and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Holly didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; she didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the cat asleep in its cage on Holly's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Holly only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped her on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Holly a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Holly kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Holly? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

Holly wasn't sure she could explain. She'd just had the best birthday of her life -- and yet -- she chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," she said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Volde-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents died. I don't feel like I should be famous."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.  
"Don' you worry, Holly. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact."  
Hagrid helped Holly on to the train that would take her back to the Dursleys, then handed her an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter, here, I'll give yer an owl of mine..."

And Hagrid took out a rather disheveled owl out of his pocket. "See you soon, Holly."

The train pulled out of the station. Holly wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; she rose in his seat and pressed her nose against the window, but her bangs got into her eyes, and she blinked. Hagrid was gone.

**Longest chapter yet, probably forever…lol. Soo did you like the Holly-Malfoy encounter? And everything else? Please review, review, and review! 10 reviews please this time for this loooong chapter, at least. Oh, did I mention? E-PYGMY PUFFS TO ALL REVIEWERS!**

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**P.S Oh yeah…if you vote on the poll that's on my profile (which house Holly should go to), you can get another Pygmy Puff. See you!**


	8. Hogwarts Express

**Ooh, thanks everyone for reviewing and voting!!!! Just to let you know, I enabled anonymous reviews, too. I got soo many reviews this time, and I'm so glad I can now improve my writing with your advice. Oh, PLEASE VOTE ON THE POLL OR LEAVE WHAT HOUSE HOLLY SHOULD BE SORTED INTO IN YOUR REVIEW!**

**Now, responses!**

**SpencerCollins: Thanks for your advice! I'll be sure to follow it—hopefully, this chapter has more of a variation. Thanks again!**

**Marie (Anon Reviewer) Thanks for reviewing, Marie. Keep reading, hopefully it gets even better!**

**The Wandmaker: Very insightful, and thoughtful that you typed it out for me. I guess I'm just too lazy to make up new chapters, but I'll definitely make it more unique from now on.**

**Lady Acorna: I'm am soo used to writing "Harry", that I just can't seem to type out Holly. Thanks for reviewing, though! (I will be more careful in the future).**

**Grangergal101:**

**Chapter 6: You're welcome, I hoped I fixed everything.**

**Chapter 7: Thank you! It was a bit of a look into Holly's personality—she grew up with Muggles, after all. Hmm…well Holly was wearing a T-shirt, so the mark would've been pretty obvious…and Hagrid was showing her off, lol.**

**Thanks for voting for a house, and I agree that Snape will be hilarious to write. You'll see about Quidditch!**

**Gypsydancer529: Eek, I meant to change that…I decided to give her a cat at the last moment. Ah, ok, I will, because of my fabulous reviewers. =)**

**Angelvan105: Yes, a whole world for Holly out there! And I daresay that she'll take it differently than Harry—*Ahem*. Glad you liked it, Draco and Snape will be fun to write in the future.**

**I felt like it (Anon Reviewer): Haha thanks for reviewing. Yes, you do get two pygmy puffs…though I may have stolen one from Ginny, she'll get her revenge…just kidding. Thanks for voting too!**

**Katie Ladmoore: Thanks for the praise! Yes, I think Holly was a lot better than Harry in talking to Draco. Keep reading!**

**Allen Pitt: Yep, I'm going to have to address those issues…and I don't think I'm going to put an OC in the story, I don't like them unless they are really useful.**

**Nectarine Nightshine: Thanks for pointing out the mistakes, I've corrected them. Keep reading, and lol my reviewers pay more attention to my story than I do. LOL.**

**High Serpent King: Ahh…I remember seeing you from the first chapter, welcome back! And yes, you do get 2 pygmy puffs, for reviewing and voting her for Gryffindor. Ok, thanks for reviewing!**

**Hermione Solo: Yay thanks for reviewing. Glad you like the cat, though some people still miss Hedwig, I think, lol. I'm considering Malfoy as a possible new friend…dunno yet, though.**

**Luiz4200: Oh, you came just in time! Thanks for reviewing BOTH of my stories, I've actually looked at Dumbledore's Mischief, probably going to update when the school year starts *sigh*. Yes, I do need to check…and be more vigilant about it. **

**James018: Ah, good to see you back! I already started writing the next chapter. Hm, yes, I suppose that the descriptions were similar, but I thought that a girl couldn't be THAT different than a boy to describe things and hear things differently…but her reactions were different, are they good?**

**Oh wow…I've filled up more than a page without doing one of my ultra long rants. LOL. You reviewers get a fabulous prize at the end for giving me 17 wonderful reviews! (Viewers, you get one too, you'll see what it is). **

**Sooo….without further ado, I pronounce: PLATFORM 9 ¾! **

Holly's last month with the Dursleys was slightly boring. After Hagrid's trip, Dudley had run from the room every time she came in. Though the pure terror on his face was amusing at first, Holly grew bored. Uncle Vernon now no longer made contact with her, which she didn't really mind. At least he had stopped saying "Dangerous". In fact, much to Holly's surprise, Aunt Petunia was the one who was friendly to Holly now. After the trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, she had beckoned Holly to go into the attic. Holly had never been up there.

"What's the matter, Aunt Petunia?"

But her aunt had just opened a trunk, and suddenly, Holly's heart was in her mouth. Because her aunt had taken out a picture of herself—undeniably, it was her—and a red haired girl who looked almost exactly like Holly. There were a few subtle differences—The girl's hair was shorter, past her shoulders, more flowing, and curlier. There was no mark on her arm, and her eyes were green.

Holly didn't speak, but she thought her aunt knew what she was thinking.

"You can keep this," Aunt Petunia had said, and then walked away, her head bowed. Holly could see her fighting back tears, and suddenly Holly felt like crying too. She did, for a long time, until it was almost dark. Then, she slipped the photo into her pocket, and went downstairs.

Other than that incident, her school books were very interesting. She read all of them very quickly, and reread her favorite parts. Her kitten was also growing up, from a small ball to a very cute electric flying whirlwind. Holly smiled as her kitten sauntered up to her, looked at her with adorable eyes, and licked her face. She had decided to name her kitten "Hedwig", a name she had found in A History of Magic.

On the last day of August, she went downstairs to make up with Dudley "Sorry about the pig's tail, Duds", and told her relatives she needed to go to King's Cross.

"Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt again. Yes, she supposed.

"Thank you."

She was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

"Actually, it was banned because—"

But Uncle Vernon cut her off. "Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know. I'm just supposed to take the train leaving at 11'o'clock at Platform 9 ¾.

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going to London anyway to get Dudley's ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings.

Holly woke up at 5 the next morning. She was so excited she couldn't sleep any longer. Magic, magic! She had dreamed about something like this so many times when she was younger. She put on a blouse and some comfortable shorts, because she was going to change on the train. Then she paced up and down and waited for the Dursleys to wake up.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon wheeled Holly's luggage in front of her, until he suddenly stopped.

"See? Platform 9 and Platform 10. It seems Platform 9 ¾ hasn't been built yet."

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"I have to go," He grunted. He got into the car, then paused. "Well, have a good term." Then they all drove away, and Holly was left having a sick feeling in her stomach.

She stopped a passing guard, but he didn't know what to do. At first, he was very friendly—"Oh, hi young miss. What can I do for you?" But when she explained that she wanted to go to somewhere called "Hogwarts", and that the train left at 11'o'clock, he shook his head, puzzled. "Sorry, young lady. Seems like someone pranked you."

"But see here, I have a ticket!"

"Ah, it's probably fake. Sorry, I have to go." And with a sympathetic glance at her, he strode away. And she was panicking. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, she had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and she had no idea how to do it; she was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk she couldn't lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a hyperactive cat.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell her something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. She wondered wildly if she should get out her wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

_Ok,_ She thought. _What's the logical thing to do? I have to look for other wizards and witches. _At that moment a group of people passed just behind her and she caught a few words of what they were saying.

"-- packed with Muggles, of course --"

Holly's eyes widened. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Holly's in front of her -- and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, Holly pushed her cart after them. They stopped and so did she, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand,

"Mom, can't I go... " Holly felt bad for her. This obviously was a wizarding family, and so she had to withstand the torture of knowing she had to wait another year or two.

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Holly watched carefully, but a large crowd of people blocked her view.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone -- but how had he done it?  
Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there -- and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Holly said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dearie," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He had bright red hair, was tall and skinny, with long arms and legs, and a long nose. He dwarfed her. Holly didn't know what to think of him.

"Yes," said Holly. "The thing is -- the thing is, I don't know how to --"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Holly nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er -- okay," said Holly.

She pushed her trolley forward and started to walk.

She started to walk toward it. People jostled her on their way to platforms nine and ten. Holly walked more quickly. She was going to break her nose on the barrier—she closed her eyes, she was going to crash, she was a foot away—

It didn't come... she kept on running... she opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Holly looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, she had done it. She felt a huge wave of relief.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Hedwig looked scared, and shrunk back. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.  
The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed her cart down the platform, and saw a variety of people. There were Indian twins, who were very pretty, and had glossy black hair. She noticed a girl with bushy hair and long front teeth, next to a round faced boy with his grandma.

"Gran, Trevor's gone again."

"Oh, Neville," she heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. "Give us a look, Lee, go on."  
The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Holly pressed on through the crowd until she found an empty compartment near the end of the train. She put Hedwig's comfortable cage in first, and then tried to heave the trunk up the steps, before dropping it painfully on her foot.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins she'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Holly said gratefully.

"Oy, Fred! Come here and help!"

With the twins' help, Holly's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Holly, accidentally taking off the sweater she'd been wearing to conceal the mark on her arm.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Holly's arm.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you—"

"She is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Holly.

"What?" said Holly.

"Holly Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, er, yeah."

The two boys gawked at her, and Holly felt herself blush. Then, to her relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom."

One of the twins leaned in toward her, and whispered, "Get into Gryffindor."

With a last look at Holly, the twins hopped off the train, but Holly heard one of them say "She's pretty cute, I thought the Girl-Who-Lived would be tougher looking."

"Nah," The other twin said. "It's better that she's innocent."

Holly sat down next to the window where, half hidden, she could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mom -- geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Holly noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves --"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once --"

"Or twice --"

"A minute --"

"All summer --"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

Holly giggled in her compartment.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a prefect," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term -- send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two -- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've -- you've blown up a toilet or --"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's not funny. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Holly leaned in, fascinated.

"You know that pretty redhead that you talked to in the station? You know who she is?"

"Who?"

"Holly Potter!"

Holly heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and talk to her, Mom, pplleeaassee?"

"You've already seen her, Ginny, and the poor girl isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is she really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked her. Saw her mark. Too bad it's not scarier."

"Poor dear - no wonder she was alone, I wondered. She was ever so polite when she asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think she remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask her Fred. No, don't you dare. As though she needs reminding of that on her first day at school. And I don't want you chasing after either, both of you, just because she's pretty and she's the Girl-Who-Lived. She's only a first year.

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Holly saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Holly watched the girl and her mother disappear. Then, everything sunk in. She was going to Hogwarts, the greatest magical school, according to Hagrid. She gave a little yelp, but quickly stifled it as the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Holly. "Everywhere else is full."

Holly shook her head, and the boy sat down. She saw him look at her with an expression of something close to…reverence, then quickly look back out the window.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Holly," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.

"Bye," said Holly and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Holly Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Holly nodded.

"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got -- you know..."

He pointed at Holly's arm. She sighed—she'd just put on her sweater. She rolled up her sleeve on her left arm.

Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who—"

"Yes," said Holly, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well – I remember green light and a high shriek…" Holly swallowed. She didn't want to say that something else had popped up. The last voice of her mom.

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Holly for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realised what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards and witches?" asked Holly, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found her.

"Er -- Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already," she said enviously. She couldn't possibly hope to be the best now.

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families Malfoy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Ok, I guess. All Muggles are different. But you—you got 3 wizard brothers and a witch sister, what's that like?"

"Five wizard brothers," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff -- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much to a girl, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Holly didn't think it was wrong being poor. "Well, I didn't have any money from the Dursleys, I just got presents…I bet you get presents too during your birthday and Christmas, right?"

Ron himself turned pink.

"... And until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a witch or about my parents or Voldemort."

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Holly.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, a girl, of all people --"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Holly slightly irritably. "And I don't think being a GIRL has anything to do with it."

Ron suddenly looked very embarrassed.

"I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn.... I bet," she added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying her a lot lately. Then she quickly stifled "I bet I'm the worst in the class". What if he didn't come from the same house? What if he got into Slytherin?

"You won't have a lot to learn," Ron said reassuringly. "There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Holly, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to her feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Holly went out into the corridor.

She'd never gotten much candy from the Dursleys, but now, with pockets rattling with silver and gold, she was ready to buy as many Twix bars as she could carry -- but the woman didn't have Twix Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands, and a lot more candy which Holly assumed was probably wizarding candy. Not wanting to miss anything, she got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.  
Ron stared as Holly brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Holly. She took a large bite out of a Pumpkin Pastie.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

Holly felt a little guilty. "Swap you for one of these," she said, holding up a pasty. "Go on --"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us.

"Go on, have a pasty," said Holly. "I'm just sharing with you."

Ron stared at her. "Well, if you say so…"

And two of them ate their way contentedly through Holly's candy, cakes, and cookies.

"What are these?" Holly asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" She didn't want to eat a frog, even if it was made out of chocolate.

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know -- Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect -- famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Holly unwrapped the Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and moustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Holly.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa – thanks…

Holly turned over Dumbledore—silver lettering was on the back.

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.

Holly turned the card back over. It was empty. "He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. Oh well, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Holly. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "weird!"

Holly stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave her a small smile.

Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Holly thought the photos were amazing. Soon she had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. Finally, she took her eyes off them to open a new box--Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Holly. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor -- you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavoured one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh -- see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavour Beans. Holly got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny grey one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone.

Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Holly had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Do you want me to help look for him?" Holly offered.

"Really? Thanks!"

"Ron, I'm just going to stretch my legs."

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end…

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway—"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The bushy haired girl was standing there. She had large front teeth. "Have you seen Neville's toad?" She asked.

"Oh, I was about to search for it…" Holly said.

The girl stared at the wand in Ron's hand. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er -- all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard -- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough -- I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Holly looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Holly Potter," said Holly. Suddenly, she was struck by how the girl looked. She used to have a friend that moved away who had bushy hair…she and Holly had been best friends, and how this girl talked and that friend talked were almost exactly the same.

"Are you really?" Hermione was saying. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

Though Holly was thrilled to hear that, she quickly butt in. "Listen, does your name happen to be Hermy?"

"Hermy?" Then the girl gasped. "Holly? I remember a friend called Holly used to call me that! But I thought her name was Holly Dursley!"

The two stared at each other. Ron stared at them. "Wow!" Holly said. "You're—you're Hermione!"

Hermione looked flabbergasted. _ I used to be friends with the Girl-Who-Lived? Wow! _"Oh, Holly, do you want to search for Neville's toad with me?"

"Sure, I was going to…" But she got the hint.

"Ok, Ron, I have to go."

"See you," he muttered.

"Girls…" he said, after they left. "Stupid spell," he muttered. "Bet George knew it was a dud."

Hermione looked extremely happy. "I had no idea I used to be friends with you!" She said. "Do you want to be study buddies?"

"Sure," Holly said. But she frowned. "I remember you're much better than me at schoolwork. Wouldn't I just slow you down?"

"You were second best in the class!" Hermione said. "I bet that if we work together, we can ace the end-of-the-year exams."

Holly opened her mouth.

"But never mind that," Hermione said impatiently. "Did you hear about Gringotts? Apparently a vault with something really valuable in it was broken into, and it was highly guarded too!

"You mean the thing was stolen?"

"No, apparently, it was taken out earlier that day."

"What day was it?"

"Oh, August 31."

Hermione suddenly looked guilty. "Oh, we're supposed to be searching for Neville's toad!" The two girls looked up and down the corridor, and went all over the train. Trevor was nowhere to be seen. "I guess I'll be going back to my compartment," Holly said. "See you."

"Oh, wait!" Hermione said. "I don't have a seat, I'll come with you."

When the two girls got back to the compartment, a blond haired boy and two ugly looking cronies were interrogating Ron.

"Holly Potter's supposed to be in this compartment? Where is she? Tell me, Weasley."

Holly stepped into the compartment. "Who are you?"

Then the boy turned around. Holly recognized him at once. "Ah…Mr. Malfoy."

"Y-You…" Malfoy said, looking disbelieving. "You're Holly Potter?"

"Yep." Holly glanced at his two cronies.

"Ah, that's Crabbe and Goyle. Holly, don't sit with this type of riff-raff. Like the Weasleys." He sneered at Ron, who's ears turned pink.

"Watch it, Malfoy." Ron said, grimacing.

"I can teach you what type of people to associate with, Holly. Like me, my Father has a very influential place in the Ministry—"

"Ah, so he believes "Purebloods are Might"? Holly said, smirking.

The boy flushed a little. "Well, Holly, inferior people like the Weasleys, or Mudbloods, who are even worse, don't deserve the title as "Wizards" or "Witches".

Behind Holly, Hermione tensed. Ron looked positively livid, and stood up, but Holly waved him down.

"So exactly why are you telling me this, Malfoy?" Holly said, one eyebrow raising.

"Call me Draco. Because you're the Girl-Who-Lived, and I should teach this to you. You defeated You-Know-Who!"

"Right, Malfoy boy. Now, I'll say this clearly: I don't pick friends on what their status is, I pick them because of their virtues. And for those people who think that blood is important, there is no way I'll pick them as a friend."

Malfoy looked shocked. He became angry. "Potter, you're stupid."

"Oh, am I? Is someone better because their parents are someone? Can you choose who your parents are? What if YOU were a Muggleborn, Malfoy? How would you feel if people called you "Mudblod? Huh?"

Malfoy blinked. "Think about it, Draco." Holly said, in a gentler tone.

"My father will—my father will…"

"Oh, also, Draco, stop being the father's boy."

"What?"

"Don't think you're better than everyone else because your father has a place at the Ministry. Do you think that it's your achievement that HE'S at that place?"

Malfoy definitely had pink in his cheeks now. Crabbe and Goyle stared stupidly at him, as if waiting for instructions.

"You don't understand!" He snarled. In his hurt and fury, he blurted out the sentence. "You're going to end up the same way as your parents if you don't listen to me."

He said it. Holly stood up slowly, and it seemed her whole presence filled the compartment with her rage. "Get. Out."

Without a backwards glance, Malfoy stepped out of the compartment. "Goodbye, Potter."

There was a shocked silence. "You've met Malfoy before?" Ron blurted.

Holly explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on." Even though her voice was steady, she was very upset by Malfoy's words.

Holly peered out of the window. It was getting dark. She could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

She and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his trainers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Holly's stomach lurched with nerves. She stepped down, and shivered in the night air. People jostled her as they all went past. She wondered how Hedwig was doing. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Holly heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Holly?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Holly thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Holly and Hermione were followed into their boat by Neville and Ron. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**Woot another chapter done…you can see who Holly's probably going to be friends with now. So for all you reviewers, you guys get A DELUXE WIZARDING SWEETS PACK! You get Pumpkin Pasties, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Liquorice Wands, Acid Pops, and Cockroach Clusters!!! Even anonymous reviewers can submit a review, so go, go! **

**And for viewers, you only get Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, though you are already very lucky. **

**NOTE: Vote on the poll, please, or say it in your review! (This is your last chance!)**

**PLEASE REVIEW (15 Reviews this time? I know you can do it!)  
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**V**


	9. The Sorting Hat

**Omg…**

**I haven't updated in forever! Yes, I realize it's been 2 weeks…**

**But school started and now I'm really busy…**

**But anyways, I'm soo happy I got 21 reviews! Thank you all! Don't forget to review on this one too, I made it extra special for you.**

**I'll probably stick to once a week updates now. But hey, each chapter is usually pretty long!**

**So: Review Responses!**

***Btw, I just wanted to say that HarryPotterRocks09 was the 50****th**** reviewer to my story. So congratulations!***

**HarryPotterRocks09: Thanks for reviewing and voting! You are my 50****th**** reviewer, so you get a free lemon drop of Dumbledore's that I nicked…hopefully he doesn't notice, lol!**

**Angelvan105: Thank you for spending so much time on your review! I'm very happy. I'm making Holly still more cunning than Lily, though, so she won't be exactly the goody-two-shoes, lol. I hope this chapter will be great too!**

**High Serpent King: Thanks for commenting again…hopefully this chappie will be the best of all! Hermione moving is irrelevant, probably for better education…lol.**

**Luiz4200: Hmm puts a bit of a spin toward the story, right? Anyways, I dunno what I'm going to do with Ron yet, I wonder how Holly will act toward him?**

**SpencerCollins: Thank you! You helped me a lot, and do you think Holly should be more girlish?**

**Katie Ladmoore: Hi! Lol if I DO write the later books, which has about .00000000001 chance right now, in her perspective, I'll worry about that…should I even make her have a crush? She's kinda young.**

**Gypsydancer529: Great, I'm glad you liked it! I think this chapter will be even more interesting…I hope.**

**L'espoire: Thanks for reviewing and the advice! Did you notice the part when Holly looked at that girl's book, and blushed? She's still embarrassed and innocent, I guess she'll think of cute only as platonic in the time being.**

**Grangergal101: Yep, I think this will be an interesting chapter! Boys do react differently than girls, after all, in most cases. How do you think Hermione will act toward Ron? Lol I'm sorry I didn't update sooner.**

**James108: Thank you James! That's a huge compliment, because JK writes awesome. Lol wouldn't it be cool if I were her editor? Hmm…yeah, I've read plenty of those fics, and she always ends up in Slytherin, and one time even Hufflepuff! Read and find out what house she'll be in!**

**Hermione Solo: WON-WON! How nostalgic, somehow it reminds me of Lavender. ;). Thanks for voting!**

**Nectarine Nightshine: Thanks for being my beta...no, seriously! Look forward to the next chapter!**

**Allen Pitt: LOL I could just imagine Ron cowering near a sink while a giant troll advances on him…Snape is going to have a fit, I bet.**

**Anarane Sindanarie: Hi, thanks for reviewing! *Changed*.**

***I'm also putting a place for Anon reviewers. I'm glad they review!***

**Puppylover06: Hi, glad you like the story so far! **

**Chap 1: Thanks! Glad you like it, and the newest chapters are more different!**

**Chap 3: Thanks for reviewing again! Haha, Percy did reform in the end, right?**

**Chap 8: Slytherin, hmm? Thanks for voting! LOL girls do rule! And no, I DO NOT want to bail on this story.**

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**78910: Hmm not sure if I want to reveal Holly's interests yet, she's still kind of young…Harry got his first interest at 14, no?**

**Person: Lol, frie-enemies….that's actually very likely if she ends up in Slytherin…*hint hint*. LOL.**

**Whew. So many reviews this time, I'm soo happy!! And now…**

**SORTING HAT!**

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face. Holly saw Hermione looking very eagerly at the stern witch, and looked back at the stern witch, amused.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. Holly's breath caught in her throat. She would be living here…she felt so happy!

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Holly could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Holly brushed aside her bangs, and swallowed nervously.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."  
She left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" She asked Hermione. She noticed Ron looked a bit jealous, and resolved to try and include him later.

"I don't know," Hermione said, looking put out. "It never said anything in our books! Even the little bit of extra research I did didn't help!"

Holly snorted. Probably Hermione's form of "extra research" meant poring over tons of old, long, books.

Hermione then commenced whispering what types of spells they should use. "We'd probably have to use the Lumos charm, anyone can do that—"

Holly rolled her eyes. She'd tried it out a few times, and had been successful, but the boy called Neville looked scared.

However, she couldn't deny she was extremely nervous.

Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air and stifle a horrified yelp-- several people behind her screamed.

"What the --?"

She gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance --"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

She had the sensation that her legs were turning to rubber. Holly had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Holly looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Holly quickly looked down as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

She wondered what she'd have to do. Pull out a rabbit? She didn't even think Hermione could do that. Then she noticed everyone was staring at it. She stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Hermione whispered to Holly. Beside Holly, Ron was muttering. "Fred is gonna pay, he was talking about wrestling a troll!"

Holly smiled, though a little nervously. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but she did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Holly didn't think she was really particularly smart, though she was second in the Muggle class—hard work, she wasn't really sure of that. She also didn't feel particularly daring, and she didn't REALLY think she was ambitious. Ok, maybe once or twice around Dudley.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Holly saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Holly could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. She eyed the Slytherin table. They certainly weren't the most rambunctious group, but there was a certain aura around them…

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Holly noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," a sandy-haired boy sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned. Holly shot him a sharp look.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

**Draco POV:**

I looked at the hat, and chest puffing out, I strode forward. I hoped the Potter girl was watching.

As I walked just the way Father taught me to, I felt her eyes bore into the back of my head. This would prove that I was right, and SHE was wrong. The hat slid over my eyes.

"Ooh…a Malfoy!" A small voice said in my ear.

"Get it over with already," I growled. I blinked. I wasn't usually this aggressive. Somehow, I was in a bad mood.

"Usually, I'd put you in Slytherin, but something has changed…Oh, what's this? Holly Potter telling you about Muggleborns?"

"Shut up!"

The hat chortled in my mind. "The pretty redhead girl, hmm?"

I wanted to wrench this stupid hat off my head.

"Talent, I see…not a lot of loyalty though. What's this? You've shown some bravery with Ms. Potter? Should I put you in Gryffindor?"

"No! Please!"

"It's too bad…you're the first Malfoy in generations who I've had so much fun with! I guess I'll put you in….SLYTHERIN!"

I walked off, shaky. I avoided the Potter girl's gaze, somehow feeling I did something wrong.

**Holly POV:**

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle in Slytherin. Somehow, though, he didn't look happy.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then the Indian twins, "Patil" and "Patil"—Parvati was put in Gryffindor, but Padma was put in Ravenclaw-- then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last -- "Potter, Holly!"

As Holly stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Holly Potter?"

The last thing Holly saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited, her heart thumping.

"Hmm…" a small voice said in her ear. "Difficult, difficult. Now, where should I put you? You stay true to your friends, my, a good amount of talent and brains, oh yes, courage, nerve to stand up to anything you think is wrong, and…oh, ambition and cunning…"

"So…should I put you in Gryffindor or Slytherin? Those seem to be your dominant traits."

"I'd like to be put in Gryffindor," Holly said evenly, "But it's your choice."

"Are you sure? You would also do well in Slytherin."

"Positive," Holly said firmly.

"Then it had better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Holly heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took off the hat and walked toward the Gryffindor table. She beamed at everyone, and noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Holly sat studiously a good distance from the ghost in the ruff, but the ghost patted her hand anyways. She got the horrible feeling that her hands had been plunged in ice water.

She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest her sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her the thumbs up. Holly smiled back. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Holly recognized him at once from the card she'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Holly spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban, and Holly couldn't help but wonder why he wore it.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a black boy even taller than Ron, joined Holly at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Holly watched as the hat pondered for a long time where to put Ron in. Finally, it shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Holly clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair opposite to her.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Holly as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.  
Holly looked down at her empty gold plate. She was so hungry that her stomach grumbled loudly. Embarrassed, she put her hand to her stomach.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Holly didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he -- a bit mad?" she asked Hermione uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Hermione seriously. "He's obviously mad, he's a genius! Do you want potatoes, Holly?"

Holly's mouth nearly fell open—of course, she'd read a little bit about it in her school textbooks, but there was so much good food: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Holly had always considered herself fortunate with the Dursleys' food, but now, she was seriously wondering how fat she'd be at the end of this year. She piled her plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Holly cut up her steak,

"Can't you --?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've in introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you -- you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy --" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So -- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable -- he's the Slytherin ghost."

Holly looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil made clucking noises, and turned away disgustedly.  
"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding -- "

As Holly nibbled a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all- Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned - but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced -- all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here -- they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

Lavender Brown piped up "Oh, I'm a ¾ blood, you could say. My mum was a half-blood and my dad was a pure-blood."

On Holly's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing -- "). Holly shook her head. It was just like Hermione to be asking about classes already.  
Holly, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

**Snape POV:**

I saw the Potter girl look at me, and my breath caught in my throat. She looked almost exactly like red curls cascaded down past her shoulders—shorter than Lily's hair, but it made her look cute. The only thing that she had inherited from Potter was his bangs, and hers were curly and brushed to one side.

Tears almost came to my eyes. I shook my head in disgust, I was such a soppy sentimental person. I noticed her eyes—they were exactly the shade of James, and I felt a powerful rush of dislike. How I hated him. But they were wide like Lily's eyes, so innocent…

As she turned back to eat, smiling, I kicked myself under the table. Stupid, stupid, Severus Snape.

I had resolved to hate her. She was Potter's girl. But no, I couldn't…because she couldn't be Holly Potter to me, she'd always be Lily Evans, the girl I'd loved, and turned me away.

**Holly POV:**

"Who's the teacher up there, next to Professor Quirrell?" Holly asked Percy. She didn't know why that teacher had stared at her.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to -- everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Holly watched Snape for a while, but Snape avoided her gaze.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

"He's not serious?" she muttered to Hermione.

Percy, who had overheard, said "Must be. It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Holly noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed, and Snape in particular did not look happy.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot.

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Holly's legs were like lead again, but only because she was so tired and full of food. She was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Holly was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves -- show yourself"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it -- Neville needed a leg up -- and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.  
Percy directed the boys through one door to their dormitory and the girls through another. At the top of a spiral staircase -- they were obviously in one of the towers -- they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

Hermione yawned next to Holly's bed, and Holly noticed idly that they had ornate drawers next to their beds. She snorted. She wouldn't need any of it.

She had a strange dream that night—she dreamed of Quirrell's turban unrolling, an evil hand, Snape, and Malfoy's face. She rolled over and fell asleep again, and when she woke next day, she didn't remember the dream at all.

**Soo…another chapter done! Did you like the POVs?**

**Keep reviewing, everyone! Remember, even YOU without the account, yes YOU, you can review too! All reviewers get a nice fat Sugar Quill…you can suck on it in class, have a sugary snack, and look like you're studying!**

**20 Reviews please?**

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**V**


	10. ALERT: PLEASE READ

**Alert!!!!! Important!!!**

**Sorry that this isn't my next chapter… (I do have homework), but I think I just got a flame. It is extremely offensive, and it's…anonymous.**

**Now, I have awesome anonymous reviewers, such as Puppylover06, who would probably rather not make an account, but I just got a stupid person called "fran" make a flame in Spanish: here it is exactly.**

**vaya mierda de capitulo no tines ni puta idea jilipollas hombres al poder las mujeres solo sirven para follar y cocinar a los hombres. viva harry potter**

**I'm going to delete it—to those of you who don't know Spanish (and I don't know it either), look it up in an online Spanish-English dictionary. Please, girls, what this "fran" said was very very offensive…basically, if you still haven't looked it up, it was something about "Women can't do anything besides cooking and being men's slaves" except much cruder, with F-bombs. There were also words that wouldn't translate.**

**So I'm a pretty new writer, so I'm not sure whether this is normal or not. If you guys could interpret the first part that wouldn't go into the dictionary, great. If you guys can't, no big deal, I don't think this loser has anything good to say anyway.**

**I'm not going to disable anonymous reviews now—but if I get more of these, I'll have to disable it. I'm sorry to those good anon reviewers. Thanks for reading, all.**

**~Aeraqua.**


	11. Snape's Strange Attitude

**Oh no! I haven't updated in 2 weeks…again! I'm so sorry to my reviewers who have been so good, but I've been sleeping not a lot every night, cuz I'm so busy….:(. I got another "hate mail", this time from the same guy, I think, this time called Drew213, basically saying the same thing. Whatever, I'm deleting his things from now on. Then, I got another anonymous reviewer in Spanish, but I translated it and I THINK that it's a good one. So….**

**I'm gonna put the review responses in the end, looks better that way ;).**

**Oh yeah! I have this evil plot bunny that's been bouncing around a few days now, about Snape/Lily and James/Lily's twin sister (OC). What'dya think? Should I start this new one? (Don't worry, I'm not abandoning Holly). Leave me a review, or PM me. Please?**

**So….let's hear it for SNAPE and HOLLY.!**

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to that bushy-haired girl."

"That small redhead?"

"Ooh…what does she look like?"

"Did you see her claw mark?"

Whispers followed Holly the minute she left her dormitory. People were craning their necks, staring at her. They crowded around her, asking her questions. At first, she had politely answered "Is it true you live with Muggles?" but Hermione had given them a disapproving frown, and they backed away. Ron also tagged along with the pair of them, but he was proving more of a liability than an asset when looking for their first class.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Holly was sure the coats of armor could walk. Hermione, of course, wasn't surprised. "Of course I read this in Hogwarts: A History and it's surprisingly similar to the junior highs in Muggle schools. They give us more time between classes, though, because it's so much harder to get from place to place."

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, however, was Filch. He was an old, balding man bent over with rheumatism, and he absolutely detested students. Ron got onto the bad side of him by trying to open a door, which unluckily, led to the third floor corridor. He had been convinced it led to their first class. After Hermione had saved him by firing a long-winded explanation at Filch, Filch had given up and decided to chase the Weasley twins, who were setting off Dungbombs in the corridor. Hermione shot an especially smug look at Ron. "See, Ronald. We should just follow the instruction Nick gave us." He'd glowered at her, but kept silent. It was her, after all, who had just saved his butt.

Filch also owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Holly quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night sky every Wednesday, in a lesson called "Astronomy". Holly would've appreciated it, but she couldn't understand why they needed to learn it, since it was also a Muggle class. Professor Sinistra hadn't been able to given an explanation to The-Girl-Who-Lived, but she had stammered that wizards were trying to design a space shuttle. Holly and Hermione had wisely kept their mouths shut, longing to tell her that if she really wanted to build a space shuttle, she should just study the Muggle design.

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Holly thought this class wasn't very interesting (she'd never been good with Muggle plants), and Ron didn't like it right away. When a plant wrapped its tendrils around his finger, he swore—"Bloody—"

"WEASLEY! Language, 1 point from Gryffindor!" Professor Sprout then rushed to the plant, and began caressing it. "Are you ok, little one?" She cooed, forgetting about the class.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. Holly, who had been determined to give a good impression on every teacher, nearly fell asleep. Ron did fall asleep, and Hermione gave him dirty looks as she scribbled down notes. "Honestly, Holly, he's so…."

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Holly's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione had made any difference to her match. Holly turned hers silver, but it was still wood. Ruefully, she glanced at Hermione. Professor McGonagall showed the class how Hermione's had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

Holly had been looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts the most, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. First of all, his classroom smelled funnily like garlic, which everyone said was supposed to ward off vampires. When he said he got the turban from an African prince as a thank-you from a troublesome zombie, Seamus Finnigan had asked him eagerly how he had fought it off. Quirrell had turned pink and started talking about the weather. Lastly, his turban also smelled like garlic, which the Weasley twins claimed that it was stuffed full of.

Holly was happy that she was above average in her classes, and that even people like Ron weren't ahead. In fact, out of Hermione, Ron, and her, he was doing the worst.

Then, finally, it was Friday, the end of the week.

"What have we got today?" Holly asked Hermione as she poured sugar on her porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Hermione. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. Everyone says he favors Slytherins, but it's probably just rumors."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Holly, sighing. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Holly had gotten used to this, but like the other people who hadn't been raised by wizards, was shocked out of her mind the first day of school. Suddenly, Hagrid's owl came speeding Holly's way, and dropped a very untidy scrawled note into Holly's porridge.

Dear Holly,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?  
I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Dragon.  
Hagrid

Holly borrowed Hermione's quill, scribbled Yes, thanks, I'm bringing Hermione and Ron on the back of the note, and sent the owl off again. She smiled as the small little owl named Dragon nearly crashed into the window, but righted himself.

Holly's first class was Potions. Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Holly's name. He said it with disgust, but there was also something in there that Holly couldn't identify. "Holly—Potter", he said, jerkily. Then, he glared at the class, and kept reading.

Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Holly and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead. Holly snickered quietly.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? Holly racked her brains. Hermione, next to her, had her hand held high in the air. Finally, she came up with something."The Draught of Living Death, sir." She ventured. Hermione beamed at her.

Snape's sneer was wiped off his face, and he turned away briskly. Unknownst to Holly, he was staring at the blackboard, willing himself not to remember Lily's prodigious skill in Potions. He nearly snarled in confusion and rage, but remembered he was in a class. He then lifted his wand, barked "Copy these notes", and started to write in slanted script up on the board.

Then he turned back around. "Weasley!" He said abruptly. "What is a bezoar and what is it used for?" Ron looked stumped, and looked around wildly at Holly and Hermione for help.

"Tut, tut, Weasley, hoping to make friends with Potter so you can get famous?" Snape sneered. "Thought you wouldn't look in your book? A point from Gryffindor."

Ron sat there, looking furious, his ears as red as his hair. Holly stared at Snape. Surely this was unfair!

"For your information, Weasley, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and can cure you of most poisons."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Holly and Hermione, who had been working next to Neville.

"Potter, as you've obviously read the book, why didn't you help him? Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave for their friends? That's a point you've lost for Gryffindor."  
This was so unfair that Holly opened her mouth to argue, but Hermione kicked her lightly under their cauldron.

"Sorry, but don't push it," she muttered, "We don't want to lose more house points."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Holly and Ron were fuming. "Snape really does hate Gryffindors," Holly said bitterly. Ron kicked at a stone. "Agreed there, mate."

Hermione looked at them pityingly. "Holly, that wasn't your fault. He shouldn't have done that."

"What about me?" Ron demanded.

Hermione hesitated, but plowed on. "Sorry about the point, Ronald, but you obviously didn't look at the book carefully enough."

Ron gaped at her. Holly groaned. Oh, Hermione.

Pointedly ignoring Hermione, Ron asked Holly "We're going to Hagrid's today, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Holly said, glancing over at Hermione. She looked slightly hurt, because originally it was supposed to be the two of them.

"The three of us will all go," Holly said firmly.

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Holly knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang -- back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.  
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron and Hermione," Holly told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Nice ter meet yer, Hermione." Then he glanced at Ron. "Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Holly, Ron, and Hermione pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Holly's knee and drooled all over her robes. She discreetly moved her leg away from Fang, and he amiably drooled on Ron instead.

Ron was delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her -- Fitch puts her up to it."

Holly told Hagrid about Snape. "He looks at me weird, Hagrid, and he doesn't like me."

Ron then cut in. "He hated me!"

"Rubbish!" Hagrid snorted. "He wouldn't hate yer cause—"

"Cause what, Hagrid?"

But Hagrid turned red and fidgeted with his beard.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot -- great with animals."

Holly wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Holly picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST  
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.  
Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.  
"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Hermione peered over her shoulder. "See, that's what I was talking about."

"Hagrid!" said Holly, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Holly's eyes this time. He grunted and offered her another rock cake. Holly read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Holly, Ron, and Hermione walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Holly thought that none of the lessons she'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Holly?

Ron cut into her ramblings. "Come on, Holly, we'll be late for the feast!"

Behind Holly, Hermione groaned. "Is food all that boy ever thinks about?"

**Hmm…shortish chappie this time, but did you like it? Please please do review with your feedback! ALL REVIEWERS get Zonko's merchandise—Filibuster's Fireworks, fake wands, leprechaun gold! One of the best deals you'll get from me. This time, 20 reviews will be fine, but I'd love it if you guys reviewed more. Don't forget to comment about my plot bunny! Now, I'll reply to each review.**

**SpencerCollins: Chap 9:**

**Thanks for the advice, I'm not going to make Holly too girly, because I find those girly-girls annoying and lol if she destroys Voldemort with lipstick ********. But, she will mature faster than Harry, that's for sure!**

**Chap 10: LOL, agreed, I hate how girls are called woMEN. Ladies CAN do anything.**

**Angelvan105: Chapter 9: Thanks for reviewing as usual!!! Hmm…I wonder just how much Draco will be changed by Holly. LOL you can bet that Holly is going to have some interesting experiences around Halloween *cough cough* I have that chappie planned out.**

**Chapter 10: Thanks, Angel! You are an awesome reviewer, and now I know just to not get upset by those awful pigs. **

**Nectarine Nightshine: Thanks! I think I changed it, but I'm not really sure…*scratches head*, ah well, if it's still there I'm too lazy to do it now…lol.**

**Star Wars for Life: Ah, thanks for pointing out the mistake. My apologies, please keep reading!**

**Gypsydancer529: Thanks, I accidently put the wrong Document in there…lol. Sorry for the wait! **

**HarryPotterRocks09: Hopefully, the POVs were interesting—I wanted to give you some insight to how Draco and Snape were thinking ;).**

**Luiz4200: Chap 9: Hi, thanks for commenting again! Except this time, Holly's going to spend more time with Hermione, so I'll wonder how that will turn out…**

**Chap 10: Haha, lol, thanks, yeah I do get it. Sorry about the late update!**

**Allen Pitt: …..How did you guess, Allen? LOL I didn't even remember your review until I saw it just now and I realize that's exactly what I've done. And, no, I'm not going to put Ginny's crush in.**

**Katie Ladmoore: Haha, thanks very much. I'm probably going to do more of them later, so it'll be more interesting than just from Holly's perspective.**

**Mask with a truth: Thanks! I'm going to, I'm excited about what's going to happen during the troll incident.**

**Pectus Noctem: Thanks so much…I was pretty shaken, because it wasn't just a flame, it was a horrible guy who I feel bad for the women around him…heh, I think Draco is starting to like Holly, but who knows what Holly thinks? Pretty much, this mark makes her a bit more evil, because it's branded onto her, like a Dark Mark *Gasp*.**

**Frannienzbabe: Thanks! I really hate those awful people. Lol, my brother's a better cook than me.**

**The Wandmaker: Thank you for those wise words. I really do appreciate it, probably it's some drunk guy who sees every girl-Harry story and gives those nasty reviews. Thanks again!**

**Stygian Styx: Haha, now I get it…jeez, this guy can't even write right, lol, when I translated it. Thanks for the positive feedback!**

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**Lady Sabine of Macayhill: Hi, thank you for reviewing! StygianStyx translated the loser's words. Lol I'm too lazy, but hopefully there were good changes this chapter.**

**Anonymous Reviews: **

**Maria esp21: Thanks for reviewing, I think yours is a good review, because of the limited Spanish I have muy buen probably is muy bien, which is very good. And fran idioto also probably says fran is an idiot. **

**Jess: Hi, thanks so much for reviewing! I'm not going to disable anonymous reviews, because of one pig. I hope that this chapter is different enough, shows more of the Holly-Ron-Hermione relationship. Sorry for the late update!**

**Jade:**

**Chapter 3: Thanks for reviewing, me too, I hate it when people make Petunia so mean.**

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	12. ALERT 2: REVISED

**Hi there, Almighty Reviewers! Ok, I'm sooooooo sorry that this isn't another chapter, but I'm telling you that I'm actually going to work on it earlier, instead of working on it for the whole day on the weekend. **

**No, I'm not banning anonymous reviews, still. By the way, this is an EDIT. My original Alert 2 didn't seem to do much except to egg an idiot *cough cough* on, my reviewers told me. So whatever, just please respond to the next paragraph. Thanks!**

** Guys, no one has replied to my plot bunny idea =(, about Snape/Lily, and James/OC. Pleaassee leave a message saying whether I should start another one or not?**


	13. Flying Lesson

**Hi everyone…I'm back! I know, I'm pathetic. I haven't updated in 8 months. I'll be surprised if my old, loyal reviewers will show up again…but I hope they/you all do! This last year, I've been going through some hard times. Now that's it's summer, I have more time to write and to update my story ****. **

Malfoy never talked to Holly anymore. He seemed to avoid her altogether, though if he saw Ron or Hermione he would sneer. This irked her. How could someone think that other people should be judged on blood status? That was like racism. She knew at least THAT much from school.

One day, though, she, Hermione, and Ron came into the common room laughing (for once, Hermione wasn't nagging Ron and Ron wasn't glowering at Hermione) and Ron let out a groan.

"What?" Holly asked curiously.

"Flying lessons." Ron mumbled.

"I thought you were looking forward to them?" She didn't add "we". It didn't seem that many _girls _liked the idea of riding on a broom and possibly getting injured, but Holly found the idea of flying absolutely marvelous. However, though, she was rather anxious about getting injured. You can't manipulate a ball to hit someone else.

"No, it's just that…we have our first flying lesson with the Slytherins on Thursday."

Holly inwardly groaned. "Where does it say that?"

"Common board."

Hermione, however, seemed to be bored by this conversation. "Seriously, Holly, I don't know why you would care, though. Quidditch seems so silly compared to our studies. Fine, I would like to ride on a broom. But other than that? I really don't see much appeal."

Ron stared at her, openmouthed. "Are. You. Insane?" He demanded to Hermione.

She glared at him.

Holly, however, wasn't going to be their peacemaker now. Malfoy had spent the last week bragging about his flying skills, and how he was escaping Muggles in helicopters. She wondered how she and Ron would compare against him. She didn't want all of the boys to pity her just because she was a girl. However, Malfoy wasn't the only one telling tales, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who he shared a dorm with, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. And then there was Neville. Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Holly felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. And then there were the girls. Lavender and Parvati always like to fawn and give Holly "makeovers," except Holly only let them do that on weekends. She didn't really care for Ella's Erasable Eye-Liner, or Linda's Luxurious Lipstick. They, however, did not care for brooms or sports.

"Oh, sure, Holly, we're brave, but we don't really see the fancy of being hit by balls," the two girls had sniffed.

Hermione was even worse than Lavender and Parvati. She had this quiet type of disapproval radiating off her every single time the word "Quidditch" was said. Holly had the feeling that Hermione wouldn't be very good at this. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book — not that Hermione hadn't tried.

Hermione had read a boring book called "Quidditch Through the Ages" for hours of her free time at night.

Then, finally, at breakfast on Thursday she brought the book with her and read aloud to Neville, who seemed desperate. Holly automatically looked up for Dragon, but he hadn't come. It seemed Hagrid was too busy nowadays for weekly Friday chats. Idly, Holly scratched Hedwig as the kitten purred under the table. Then, a barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "… you've forgotten something…" Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. Ron and Seamus jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him, but not without a surreptitious glance at Holly. At three-thirty that afternoon, Holly, Ron, Hermione (except she was walking rather reluctantly) and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Holly had heard Angelina Johnson, a third year, complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Then, their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Holly glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Holly's broom flew into her hand gracefully at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Holly; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground. Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Holly and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —" But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Holly saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and — WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight. Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Holly heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. "Stop that, Malfoy." Holly said quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy paled, looking angry. "There you go again, Potter, sticking your hair where it doesn't belong." Then, he leapt into the air.

Malfoy wasn't kidding. He could fly. Holly ran below him, frustrated. What could she do? Then, she spied the broomsticks. Her instinct told her to go and pursue Malfoy, but her brain told her otherwise.

Hermione seemed to know what she was thinking. "Don't do it, Holly!"

She did it. Grabbing a broomstick, she swung her leg over it and leapt into the air. Exhilaration rushed through her. Yes! She was truly flying! The world spun and she felt so light and fast—yes, this was what she was meant to do!

She pulled the broom much higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground, an admiring whoop from Ron, and a scream from Hermione. The people below were tiny.

She turned her broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned. "You wouldn't." He whispered. "You're a girl." That moment, Holly would remember, was very strange. The sky seemed blurred, and Malfoy's pale, pointed face was in sharp contrast. His eyes showed anger…and something else.

"And my gender matters?"

His face suddenly darkened with anger. "Here, catch this, then!" He launched the Remembrall into the sky, toward the castle. Holly flew after it like lightning. She caught it with both hands, and came to an abrupt stop. Malfoy, who had been flying after her, didn't stop in time and crashed into her.

Holly, in one dreadful, heart-stopping second, lost the grip on the broom she had with her knees. Still clutching the Rememberall, she teetered for a second—and fell off the broom. It seemed to happen in slow motion.

Her last thought was that this height was very, very, scary, her last sight was Malfoy's shocked, scared, face, and her last sounds were of a discordance of sound below.

**Hey guys! So yes, there's some more contrast in that chapter! Sorry, it's a bit short…**

**I just want to thank ALL of my reviewers! I'm sorry I can't reply to your reviews individually, it's just that I have no idea where to start. But, the message to all of you is that all of you have been very supportive, encouraging, and nice, and your constructive criticisms are extremely helpful. Thanks, everyone, like Allen Pitt (just an example, he's been with me for quite a while) for giving me advice and thoughtful feedback.**

**Review, please! Hmm….this time you can all have Holly Potter at your service as an apology for the lateness!**

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